Inside the fridge of your mind, little doctrines hide behind jars of jelly and tall milk clouds. There lies the story of a spoon that danced under the moon.
Once, tiny ideas formed in bubbles, floating with fluffy cotton candy dreams. A ping from an egg, singing "open me, mystery awaits!"
The butter stick tells of the ridged mountains where snails discuss philosophies of gliding. Mother marshmallow listens, without a sound, nodding with every word.